


common courtesy

by roguewrath (purqatory)



Series: cliff's edge [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purqatory/pseuds/roguewrath
Summary: for rebelcaptain appreciation week - day six: h o p e





	common courtesy

**Author's Note:**

> for rebelcaptain appreciation week - day six: h o p e

The last thing he remembered, before his body started to register the pain, was her scream. Her scream of his name frightened him enough that he had yet cared about his fall: _was she going to come for him? She wouldn't. She shouldn't. Would she? Did he want her to?_

Then came the pain, sharpest than anything he had ever felt: it was most certainly not the good sharp - it was the polar opposite of how it felt when Jyn Erso had first caught sight of him, or when she had purposefully brushed her fingers on his arm just before she had climbed down Rogue One in ready to infiltrate Scarif; no, it was similar to the look in her eyes when she had confronted him and his assassination orders after her father had been killed.

This time, the pain was everywhere. Any distraction wasn't working, either: he tried breathing through his nose, but it must have been broken, right against the landing beneath the side of his face, because he was starting to cough, and the taste of metal was going to choke him. 

For a split second, he thought he couldn't feel the weight of his legs, or the sharp edges of his Kafrene pick digging into his heel. Then relief rushed through him with a spluttering heave, spitting blood from his lips because he did _feel_ the cool metal by his skin. 

Footsteps followed by thumping on the floor, onto his ribs and his cheekbones made him look up and caught sight of two men in Imperial uniforms, but they were shouting his name in his ear. "Are you Andor? Andor? Cassian Andor? Where is Jyn Erso? Andor?"

 _I want to know where Jyn is. Take me with her. Take me to her._ Cassian's head lolled against a shoulder and he felt his body bend and held up, and then curses when his head swung towards the bars as the whole tower shook and shuddered and then cleaved apart and he could feel the hot sun on his face - 

* * *

" _You have to save Rogue One at all cost?_ " He spat it back towards Mon Mothma directly, and hissed through his teeth in triumph as the Senator winced. She had compassion, Cassian was sure, but the extent had ran out when the plans were out of their hands. 

General Draven cut off Senator Mothma's dispute, "Jyn Erso's theirs. The Rebellion and victory is still ours. We cannot spare -" 

Cassian didn't notice Bodhi by his side, "All the fighter jets that went in and didn't get out is a _victory_?" Bodhi was so loud that it magnified the ringing in Cassian's ears. "Why _risk_ saving us, then?"

"Andor - Captain Andor is a veteran of Intelligence and an asset to the Rebellion." Draven's eyes flickered towards Chirrut and Baze, and Chirrut's eyes met his sharp enough to make Draven look away, scorched. "This team is valuable-"

"Jyn. Erso. Is. _Not_?" Her name was marred by the taste of his blood, the sand and the dust from the collapsing transmission tower -

Draven was past the basic civility of greeting soldiers after a successful mission; his words were blunt and Cassian gritted his teeth, hating how he noticed the difference. "You, of all people, knew her use and contribution to the Rebellion was her father. She knows not of other things that were discussed beyond retrieving intel of the Death Star. If she talks, nothing changes. She was- and always is a free agent." 

The General backed away: catching himself and preparing for the backlash from the choice of his words.

He got it. Cassian whipped the blastor from his belt and slammed it down on the table. Metal against glass, it shattered into a million pieces.

Calls and surprised yells rung against his ears, but Cassian heard none. He sank to the ground as his spine tried to scratch its way out, reaching for something but he was too tired, too weak, and too _late_ to.

* * *

CassianCassianCassian _Cassian!_

Someone was calling his name, but there was no rush, no urge to open his eyes. 

Because it wasn't Jyn. It couldn't be Jyn. 

It should have been Jyn. _Gods, he wanted it to be Jyn._

But it wasn't Jyn.

He kept his eyes shut so tight they hurt.

* * *

Cassian dug his fingers into his belt rather than placing his hand on Bodhi's shoulder, to pull him back before he did something he was going to regret later. If he broke someone's nose, Bodhi would feel sorry after the fact, which would defeat the purpose.

"You are to be self-monitored throughout the day. If you miss any check-in slots, we will have to pull un-necessary human labor into making sure you all don't pose anymore risk to the greater good of the Alliance."

"Just as Jyn did, you mean." Bodhi's voice shook, but it was not from intimidation; the pilot's face was getting paler by the minute, his still-gloved hands shaking against the back of his chair. 

Draven's eyes narrowed and he continued as if Bodhi had not quipped him, "Just as you _all_ did. And she shall be honored for that -"

"She is captured, not dead." The way Bodhi gritted it out made Cassian wonder how many times he had said it while Cassian was out: first in fury and agitation, then gradually exhaustedly adamant and persistent as Bodhi was standing now. But the stubborn, stubborn hope in his voice when defying command never wavered. 

Cassian could feel Senator Mothma's inspecting gaze on him and marvelled how this woman was able to vaguely detect who he had become since escaping Scarif. She was the one who ordered them saved, so at least someone could be swayed towards his argument with the right leverage.

The Rebellion still received no replies from Tantive IV and the trace for the princess had gone cold. No news from the Empire, no Jyn-bait dangling in front of them was not a good sign. Not to him and the Alliance knew the vacuum could never last.

Cassian felt Chirrut's staff on his back, against the disk; either reminding him of his current state was useless in a fight, or to tell him that he and Baze was still on his side, on _Rogue One'_ s side. Always.

Hope. It was never a word in his vocabulary and it was hard for him to pronounce, let alone forming words to bracket it together, letting his brain absorb the _possibility_ the single word could have for the mind. 

He didn't want that word without Jyn Erso with it. He would have to settle for _Not Yet_ , for now.

Chirrut pressed harder on the metal hidden in his back, and Cassian reached forward for Bodhi.

"We understand. And we will comply with the Alliance." he made it sound like _For now_ didn't hang behind his words, but Cassian Andor was a soldier and a spy, and by Draven's stiff nod and Bodhi's betrayed glare, he sold it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely a prologue/preface of a canon-divergence fic i will start working on... tell me what you think! :)


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